🟡🐓 The Yellow Sun Rooster

Before the world learned to wake by clocks,
In the hour when night still argued with dawn when crickets sang their last stubborn songs and shadows refused to leave the Yellow Sun Rooster stood alone on the highest roof of the earth. His feathers were not just yellow; they were forged from sunlight, warm gold at the edges and bright as fire at the heart.
He did not crow for attention.
He crowed for truth.
When the Yellow Sun Rooster opened his beak, the sound did not travel it cleared.
The crickets fell silent.
The restless spirits retreated.
The darkness loosened its grip.
His call was not loud, but it was final.
Long ago, night creatures tried to stretch their rule beyond their time. They fed on confusion, envy, and fear, whispering doubts into sleeping minds. People rose tired, lost, and heavy. The sun still came but weak, delayed, uncertain.
That was when the Yellow Sun Rooster chose to rise earlier than fear.
Each morning, he faced the east, chest steady, eyes unblinking. He did not fight the night. He simply announced its end. His yellow glow sharpened thought, strengthened bones, and reminded the world of order:
There is a time to rest. There is a time to rise.
Where his light touched the ground, people woke with clarity. Workers walked with purpose. Warriors stood straighter. Children laughed sooner. The lazy darkness had nowhere to hide.
Legends say the Yellow Sun Rooster never sleeps deeply. One eye rests, the other watches. He is the guardian of early risers, the breaker of bad cycles, the keeper of rhythm.
He teaches one lesson only:
Wake with light, and the night loses power.
Even today, when the sky turns pale gold and the air feels clean and sharp, some say they hear a quiet crow—not in the ears, but in the chest.
That is the Yellow Sun Rooster reminding the world:
Rise. The day belongs to you.